


hand it over, trust me with your love

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Post-RW, Angst, Kissing, M/M, sad pretentious lowercaps crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"do you regret it?"</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"do you?"</i>
</p>
<p>or: Robb and Theon fumble their way into a relationship while on the run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hand it over, trust me with your love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janie_tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/gifts).



> so this was originally two separate posts, but I figured, why the hell not? Theon's POV was prompted for a kissing meme ("back from the dead kiss"), and Robb's POV mostly came about because it was tumblr user janiedean's birthday. don't ask me how Robb and Theon managed to find each other somehow. (MEANWHILE, while these boys are having the saddest most emotionally constipated road trip ever, Sansa and Jeyne P are hanging out somewhere safe and bff-ing it up while Jon fusses over them in his own slightly frazzled Lord Commander way.)
> 
> I'm sorry it's mostly in lowercase. I wrote it on my phone both times.

it goes something like this: the arguments go first, the yelling and the confessions. Robb has more questions than he does answers, shuts up fast when he’s asked how he came back, and Theon wishes he could’ve been there, could’ve died with him, and he missed him so much but at the same there is a rift between them that cannot be so easily bridged. Robb is still angry, but there’s sorrow too, and guilt and regret, too much of it in the gulf between them. they’ve both changed, and not always for the better.

(they’re hiding, is the thing. hiding from lions and flayed men, but if Robb were to tell the truth, they’re hiding from ghosts. Theon isn’t stupid, he knows what they’re running from, and Robb knows that too, as much as he keeps denying it to himself.)

the kiss comes a few days after, while they’re navigating through the mess of their lives and their history and how things ended between them, and it’s desperate and rough and not at all graceful, Theon holds on to Robb and tangles his remaining fingers in his red, red hair and prays to the old gods and to the Drowned God, please, _please_ , let him keep this. there are apologies mouthed into skin, pleas pressed onto open lips, “ _don’t go don’t leave please please please_ ”. there are no promises or vows, not this time, just something new and terrifying and desperate and unknown.

(he knows better, this time, than to make a vow.)

Robb holds on too. understandable, he’s lost too much not to cling as tight as he can to what little he has, and he holds on to Theon like Theon’s worth something, closes his eyes and presses him close, kisses him with a fierce hunger that Theon rarely ever saw from him before. Theon goes lower, mouths at the scar along his neck, and he hears a ragged gasp, and. things go from there.

afterwards, they press close to each other, and in the morning they won’t talk about it, Theon is sure of it, in the morning they’ll go back to being barely civil with each other.

when the morning comes Robb says, tentatively, sounding very unsure, “about last night.”

“do you regret it?”

“do you?”

he can’t say yes.

\--

eventually they find some kind of–well, not peace, exactly, but equilibrium, an understanding. neither talks about that night beyond the morning afterwards, and for the longest time Robb thinks it won’t happen again. he doesn’t mind.

that’s what he tells himself, anyway, but when he closes his eyes and dreams of something besides the wedding, he dreams of skin on skin, desperate prayers mouthed into greedy lips, the taste of salt and iron.

he’d kissed back, is the thing. and it hadn’t been like kissing Jeyne, that had been gentle and sweet. there was a bitterness in the way Theon kissed him, like even then there was something he needed to prove, to Robb or to himself or maybe to both of them. there was a desperate anger in the way Robb kissed him back, and their movements had been--rough. to say the least of it.

they don’t talk about it. whatever it was. maybe they should, but Robb doesn’t really know what to say, keeps turning it over in his head when he glances at Theon, _you kissed me_ sitting on his tongue before he swallows them back, _you kissed me and I kissed you back_.

it happens again just a few weeks later while they’re seated in front of a fire. there's four fingers locking around his wrist and pulling him in, and suddenly their faces are an inch apart and Robb is fully aware of the fact that they should really stop off at an inn and take a bath because Theon re-- _smells_.

(there’s a part of him, more wolfish than anything, that would like nothing more than to rip out Bolton’s bastard’s throat. Frey, too, and Bolton himself.

he tries not to listen to it.)

“are we going to do this again?” he asks, his voice low and husky. _gods damn it_ , he thinks.

Theon doesn’t answer, just runs teeth over his lower lip. “is that a no?” he says, and he sounds so resigned as he lets go of Robb’s wrist.

“no, it’s–” Robb starts, then huffs out a frustrated breath and makes no effort to move away, catching Theon's hand with his. “I didn’t hate it,” he says, and to him it sounds like truth, like a rift beginning to heal. “last time.”

“thought we weren’t talking about last time.”

“thought we wouldn’t be doing this again,” Robb returns, and is rewarded with a small smile. “do you mind?”

“I didn’t hate it either,” Theon says. “last time.” he rests a hand on the back of Robb’s neck, three thin fingers warm against his skin.

the last time they kissed had been rough and angry. this time, Robb is hesitant, not quite certain, but he leans forward and kisses Theon like he’s afraid he’ll lose him.

the thing is, he is.


End file.
